


Wait

by Lafayetta



Series: Wait [1]
Category: Justice League vs. Teen Titans (2016), Justice League: War
Genre: Justice League: War continuity, Long probably, M/M, Other, Slow Burn, lots of Batfamily, lots of Gen and friendship
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:24:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 19,086
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7975099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lafayetta/pseuds/Lafayetta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hal overestimates the ring. Bruce underestimates the man wearing it.  Dick wonders which will get who killed, and when.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bruce

**Author's Note:**

> This work follows the continuity of _Justice League: War_ , beginning at the end of _Justice League vs. Teen Titans_ , mostly to quell my nerd rage regarding my precious spirit animal Hal Jordan not being in it. The adjacent Batman-centric flicks, naturally, are also in play. So, _War, Throne of Atlantis, Son of Batman, Batman vs. Robin,_ and _Bad Blood_. The post-credit scene in _vs. Teen Titans_ is being intentionally overlooked, however, simply because there's already too much mapped out for this fic to get into all that. Sorry, Terra.

Not often mere mortals had the opportunity to pity Superman. Batman may have been inclined to take it under less exigent circumstances. As it was, he wished Clark would keep his head in the game; the affront to Wonder Woman, while indeed an affront, didn't take precedence over the welfare of an entire planet and several of its neighbors. 

Shazam was all the more blatant in his indignation, and any attempts to signal he should stop, now, had been fruitless. Superman's glances to the door were at least few and furtive. In contrast, Shazam sat with his arms crossed, staring at it, then at King Zaulk in brazenly spiteful, five second intervals. Luckily, Zaulk's current interest among them began and ended at whether or not they were Clark. 

"The people themselves can't fly," Superman admitted, unflinching, "but they have the means for aerial combat. Good — no, I mean, strong — strong means of aerial combat. They have strong means of aerial combat." 

The interpreter seated between him and the king turned to the latter, head bowed, and hopefully omitted any repetition and prolongations on Superman's end.

Ta'uakin was a guttural but precise language befitting its speakers, comprised of short words and punctuated by clicks and grunting. The interpreter must have gone the literal route with Superman's response; before he was finished, King Zaulk rumbled back he was unimpressed. No translation needed. Ridicule, Batman had come to learn, was a universal constant, evident as much by tone as by word. 

The interpreter raised his head and turned back to Superman, who was already saying, eyes on Zaulk, "Look, the long and short of it is if you ever step foot on Earth, I will personally see to it it's _the last_ planet you step foot on. Same goes for whoever comes after you kick the bucket."

"Yeah," Shazam agreed, thumping his fists on the table. "What he said." 

The interpreter looked bewildered. "Try with a few less idioms," Lantern advised, weary. 

"If you come near any planet in this sector again, I'll kill you," Superman said plainly. 

"Yeah," Shazam agreed, again, louder.

"And Wonder Woman will do worse," Superman added as the interpreter turned away. "Trust me on that." 

The Ta'uak were a race of violet-skinned, patriarchal warriors, other worldly in origin, both alien and cross-dimensional. They'd come from a parallel universe some thousands of years ago and within the first hundred eradicated the population of what was now their home planet. The way Lantern explained it, preceding his 14 day absence, they'd been there long enough to enact what was tantamount to "finders, keepers" with no intrusion from the Guardians.

A Ta'uakin didn't sleep in the traditional sense of the word. Their primary host did, for lack of a better term, but while it slumbered the third eye on their foreheads remained wide awake and possessed a sentience entirely its own. A far too destructive race, with far too much time on their hands, possessing far too advanced hybrids of dark magic and technology had developed _far_ too much interest in Earth's corner of the universe. To contend with all that — a well overdue slap on the wrist, to put it lightly — the Guardians had sent Hal Jordan.

 _Only_ Hal Jordan. 

To his credit, Lantern had earned respect enough to sway Zaulk into a parley at the Watchtower. "They'll only stay interested if they're talking to someone obnoxiously overpowered, so Supes will be our official ambassador," he'd said over the transmission screen, slouching against the wall beside him, obscuring the background. "No offense." 

Superman's brow had pulled up on one side, the opposite eye squinting. "None taken, I... guess?" 

"Right. Okay, so, I'm saying 'ambassador' but that's more my shtick. We've got an envoy, which again, is me. What we need is someone to put the fear of Earth in 'em. They don't deal in reason, they deal in respect, and they'll only respect us if they know we mean business. I can't threaten them myself. Bad for my career. But you..."

Superman had turned to him expectantly. 

"It sounds like a plan," Batman agreed. 

"Really? It does?" Lantern's voice was pitched slightly higher, his mock excitement hampered by his obvious fatigue. "No argument from the Bats just for the sake of pinning down my last nerve and crawling up its ass to die? Get Lois on the line. The press must know." Then Lantern's fist had bore down on the panel before him and cut off the feed. 

"He seems... grouchy," Superman had said, scratching above his bangs. "And tired?" 

Exhausted, now. 

If the Ta'uak didn't sleep, it stood to reason Lantern hadn't afforded himself much of it either, likely a matter of self-preservation as well as tactic. He'd been slouching since they'd taken their seats in the Hall of Justice. Occasionally, he'd lean too far forward, or his head would dip too low, and Flash would weaponize the point of his elbow beneath the table to wake him. 

Either Zaulk mistook it as obeisance or he'd become too fixated on Superman to notice. Considering his disregard for Shazam as well, Batman's bets were on the latter. Zaulk's third eye was open, flitting from person to person, but the king himself stared disdainfully at Superman alone. 

Superman matched him glare for glare. "Come here again and you die," he declared. 

The interpreter faced his superior, but Zaulk held up a hand and regarded the Man of Steel a moment more. "We'll retreat," the interpreter said, after Zaulk had finally spoken. The king stood, so everyone stood with him. As they'd agreed, all but Superman bowed at the waist, hands clasped behind their backs, save for Lantern, who kept one splayed on the table. 

"Glad to hear it. Follow me," Superman said, demanded really, to the further intrigue of Zaulk.

Batman turned his head just enough to observe the Ta'uarkins exit from over his shoulder. Wonder Woman stood in the hallway beside Zaulk's daughter, spine straight as a steel rod. She'd taken the suggestion of kowtowing poorly. "You would let him throw me from the room and then advise me to bow my head?" and Batman wished if she was going to hold her sword, she'd gesticulate a little less. "I will not," she'd hissed, turning to — and on — Superman, whose presence as a silent party by extension made him a guilty one. "I _will not_." 

And she didn't. The best they could hope for was she hadn't somehow found the means to plot an uprising with Princess Neatua. 

The doors closed. 

Shazam made a point of exhaling loudly. "What a _dickbag._ "

"Hal," Flash called. "Jesus. Hal?" 

He would have preferred they stuck to the monikers, but he understood the panicked impulse to blurt out Jordan's civilian name when he was suddenly out of uniform. The fall had been inevitable with the way he was teetering, and as such Batman had already braced himself for the extra weight well before Jordan's Lantern attire dissipated. His arm flung out enough to keep him from breaking teeth on the table and Jordan folded over it, out cold. 

The Flash, needless to say, had keen reflexes of his own; his arm was set higher against Jordan's chest, trying to coax him upright.

Shazam hurried around to their side, helpfully asking if he were dead. "Exhausted," Batman corrected. Without preamble, he flung one of Jordan's arms over the width of his shoulders. Flash took the other, beckoning him again. Jordan didn't so much as twitch. 

"We'll take him out as soon as we know they're gone," Batman said. 

Flash frowned at his feet. "Yeah. Okay. He needs to charge the ring soon as he can. I don't like him de-powered like this." 

"Lantern is human most of the time," Batman reminded him. "He'll be fine, for the moment."

"If they're not gone yet, I could go _throw_ them out," Shazam offered. He gawked at Jordan in the childish way Batman had come to expect from him. "What's he wearing? Is that a dress? For a bunch of tough guys, they sure like their little black dresses."

It was a ceremonial robe, not a dress, but it was a curious thing, by itself an admission Jordan had voluntarily shed his uniform and whatever he'd been wearing beneath it at some point. When he was coherent, there would be questions. 

Hal Jordan was not coherent for nearly thirteen hours.


	2. Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dick is a good person. The problem is he's still just a person, whereas Damian is more of an implacable ball of rage that may or may not have shot up straight from the depths of hell itself. 
> 
> But really, the kid's a handful.
> 
> ###### 

Dick Grayson had been a great kid and greater Robin. Minded his Ps and Qs, his pleases and thanks you, his behind you, watch out, he's got a guns. He liked to think he made a respectable young adult and an even better Nightwing too, but man, oh man, no one tested his capacity for basic human decency quite like Damian Wayne. 

He never meant it, not really, just thought it sometimes, in a realm of guilt-laden hypotheticals: _Sure wish I was an only child again._

He appreciated what Bruce had done for him more than words could convey, more than either of them felt need to try. But there were times the guy could have stood to be a _tiny bit_ more considerate with other people's schedules. Nightwing had his own city to safeguard, his own life now. A girlfriend, maybe. _Maybe._ He didn't want to commit to the word, but things were looking good. 

Bruce? Did not care. At all. 

Watch out for Damian. Take Damian to the Titan Tower. Make sure Damian doesn't revert back to his assassin ways and/or accidentally kill his teammates. That's all Bruce ever said these days and it was enough to leave him nostalgic for the times of silent, stone-faced brooding. 

Dick swung at his successor, missed, and took a fist to the gut for his miscalculation. He returned the favor soon enough. Damian kept his balance through a barrage of punches, sprung away from a swipe to the ankle, got a good hold on Dick's arm and dropped strategically, throwing him across the training room floor. 

"Not bad," Dick said indifferently. Truth was he was doing great today. It was just fun to mess with him. Not mature, but fun. 

Damian was not amused. 

"So, how're things with Raven?" Dick asked, oh-so-conversationally. 

Damian looked like he lived in a world where the concept of amusement had yet to be invented.

"That bad, huh?" Dick clicked his tongue, sympathetic. "Having a girlfriend is a lot of work." He raised his arms to block the incoming kick and turned it, striking his palm against Damian's jaw. Damian hit the ground rolling, his father's son all right, then it was back on his feet, fists raised. 

"She is not my _girlfriend,_ " he informed Dick, ironically as if speaking to an insolent child, and probably one who liked to use words he didn't know the definition of. Dick dodged his next kick, blocked a punch, felt the soles of Damian's boots spring off his upper back and nail him in the head as a parting gift. "I find her company a bearable respite compared to rest of you p —" 

Dick span around and kicked him, knocking him on his ass. Damian reached to touch his face despite himself, like he couldn't comprehend Dick Grayson would kick him mid-sentence. It was such an innately human, childlike response, fleeting though it was. No matter what Bruce said, Damian _was_ a kid. End of story.

And Dick wasn't much better at the moment, he knew. "You're too young for that stuff anyway." 

Damian bristled. "I was raised by the League of Assassins and traversed the Himalayas alone. I think I have my own sound judgement in regards to what I'm _old enough_ for." 

Dick hummed back at him, canting his head, hands up as preemptive measure. "So what you're saying is... she _is_ your girlfriend?" 

If looks could kill, Bruce would have found a way to bring his first Robin back from the dead just to lecture him about letting this one do him in. Some babysitter. "You never cease to vex me, Grayson," Damian said flatly. He pushed himself up and lunged. 

Dick got him once in the stomach, once across the jaw. He grabbed his shoulders and introduced him up close and personal to the floor, arm wrenched behind him. Damian grunted and tested the hold. "What's a matter?" Dick asked him, lifting his head just enough to shove it back down. "Are we feeling _vexed?_ " 

"Dick!" 

Oh. 

Great. 

Dick relinquished his hold and stepped back, way back, in part to appease Kory and in part to keep out of retaliation range. Damian didn't go for it, though. He'd probably let it simmer for a while and get him back next time. "What? We were training. It was his idea."

Kory went to Damian, who stood now, reaching for him. He brushed her hand away and sneered, "I don't need your coddling, Starfire." 

Kory's smile tightened. "Of course." 

_Yeah, see? Like you don't want to thump his against the ground a little,_ Dick thought. Just a little. A tiny bit. 

He was a good person. Really he was. 

"The League is contacting us," Kory informed them, and Damian immediately marched out of the room like the incoming call was itself a mission. She turned to Dick then. Didn't say anything, but he knew by the look what she was thinking and what it was going to cost him. 

"What? We were _training!_ " 

Batman was none too happy either. In other news, the sky was blue. "We need Cyborg to create a boom tube to the Watchtower and Raven to be escorted here. Green Lantern may have fallen prey to something... occult-oriented." 

From the corner of his eye, Dick saw Raven rubbing her arm. He saw Beast Boy's hand on her shoulder. "You can do it," Beast Boy assured her. "Um, whatever 'it' is." 

"Cyborg isn't here," Kory said apologetically, though by then Batman had to have deduced that from the simple fact he was the only Titan missing in action. "He's... with friends. I'll call —" 

"Don't bother," Batman said. "In that case, expect Superman to arrive shortly." He reached to close the connection, but Damian piped up with, "Father, I have complaints about the so-called 'practice weapons' that are being foist on me," and Dick thought, _Of course you do._

"Now's not the time, Robin," Batman said, yet there he was, listening. Dick huffed out a sigh, arms crossed. 

"Our enemies wouldn't use wooden swords, so I —" 

"We'll talk about this later, Damian."

The screen went black. Dick whistled. "Man," he said. "I don't know about you, but _I'm_ vexed."


	3. Barry

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Barry is a good friend. Mostly, he's a worried one.
> 
> ###### 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Takes place after Chapter 1; overlaps somewhat with Chapter 2.
> 
> ###### 

The doors retracted into the wall and in came Superman, rubbing the back of his neck. "They're gone." 

Was it possible for him to tighten his jaw enough to break his own teeth? Poor guy looked so defeated. Hard to say if it was more Zaulk indirectly threatening his relationship or Superman not-so-indirectly threatening Zaulk. The whole world — a lot of worlds — knew what he was capable of, but that didn't correlate with who Superman was in terms of character. Superman was the lion _and_ the lamb. 

"She must have chewed him out good," Shazam whispered, not as quietly as he thought he had, and that was without taking any superhearing into account.

"Something like that," Superman grumbled. 

"She'll forgive us," Barry said. "Eventually, I mean."

Superman fixed him with a look wasn't necessarily appreciative, and Barry wondered if it was that he'd unified them all as potential targets or the admission that Diana might hold onto this for a while that had done it. Either way, he was probably going to end up being right. An offended Wonder Woman was a bellicose Wonder Woman and there was no chance going off on Superman alone was going to appease her. They'd _all_ let her stand out there. He was just the first in line. 

Things would work themselves out once she blew off some steam. Besides, "She's entitled to some venting after putting up with that," Barry said. There was a palpable sense of disquiet, a gap in the conversation where Hal should have said something like, "The woes of dating a supermodel warrior Goddess. My heart bleeds for you." Barry looked at his friend, at the top of his bowed head. "Little help?" 

Superman moved to reach for Hal. "Yeah, sorry." 

"Careful," Barry said, which he didn't need to, because this was Superman, but he still did, because it was Hal. 

"Well, he's not dead," Shazam said. 

"I know," said Superman. 

"Oh, right. The hearing-heartbeats thing." Shazam was an odd one, affable in a way unique from even Superman, blunt in a manner less scathing than Hal could be. Barry appreciated him for it, though lately he'd been... more on the sulking side, since Vic had transferred over to Kory's group. If someone couldn't solve a problem in the same breath they mentioned it, Shazam swore the Titans could help, that they should definitely call, that he could call Vic right now. Then Batman would stare at him until he sat back down. 

"If we're done here, I've got stuff to do," Shazam said now. He looked at Batman uncertainly, the way most people would look at Batman when they'd done wrong and they knew it. "Sorry about the yelling. That king guy was just so... so..."

"It was helpful," Batman said. 

"Really?" Shazam's nose scrunched up. "How?" 

"Where am I taking him?" Superman cut in. Hal's head was dipped back over one arm and his knees curved over the other. There was nothing ostensibly wrong with it, but... 

Barry licked his lips. "Hey, maybe you could..." He hoisted an imaginary person up, a demonstrative fireman carry, or really, any carry that didn't make Hal look the part of a fainted damsel. Not that Barry himself cared, but he imagined Hal waking up like that, how it might wound the ego of a proud man who'd already collapsed beside Batman. Plus, they had a slighted Wonder Woman on their hands as it was. 

Superman carefully rearranged Hal onto his shoulder, bracing Hal's legs against his chest, letting Hal's arms and head sway behind him. "Better?" he asked, sincerely. 

"Yeah, better," Barry said. "Thanks." 

"So, where am I taking him?" 

"His apartment is in Coast — Wait, no." Barry darted past him into the hall, facing the direction of Green Lantern's Watchtower quarters. "Nix that. He brought his battery to the Watchtower before he left. It's here and ready to go." 

"Smart," Superman said. 

"Surprising," was Batman's take. Barry didn't often hear him snark, but Hal swore up and down — swore on his ring even — that "Bats runs his mouth like you'd run a marathon. None of you _see_ him do it, but that doesn't mean he doesn't. He does. A lot. Seriously, all the time."

Shazam left them and Superman followed suit once Hal was in bed, Barry calling after him, "Good luck!" 

The room wasn't disorderly, but it was suspiciously lived in: the lantern battery was on the desk across from the door, and so was a sheaf of papers, and an empty mug with _HAWAII_ in festive calligraphy printed over a backdrop of two palm trees framed by a rising sun.

"When were you in Hawaii?" Barry asked his unconscious and therefore unresponsive friend. 

The papers were a collection of constellations, planets... an entire universe, Barry saw, one that no human but Hal was liable to ever witness firsthand. To someone not accustomed to the whirlwind that was Hal Jordan, the contents of the desk probably looked more bedlam than research. Barry would wager a lifetime supply of chimichangas Hal had some inscrutable method to the madness in play. 

He tested the weight of the mug just to have something to do with his hands, since Batman was already studying Hal's pupils with a small flashlight he'd pulled from whatever dimension Batman kept things in. "His eyes are darker than they should be." 

"What? Let me see." Batman moved his hand away and Barry pulled Hal's eyelid back up. He didn't need the flashlight to see the difference. They _were_ darker; still brown, but not the right brown. "Hold on. How do you know that?" Batman didn't answer him, preoccupied twisting the ring off Hal's finger. "I don't think you're supposed to do that." 

"So I've heard." 

"What?" Barry asked dumbly. 

Batman answered his question with a question, leaning down to meet the battery at eye level, the power ring held pinched between his index finger and thumb. "How does it work?" 

"There's an oath," Barry explained, "but I've only ever heard it once..." The implications of this were lost on Batman, or more likely he chose to ignore them, and simply stood there, waiting. "Okay, uh — _In brightest days, and blackest nights_ — No, wait, I think it's _in blackest nights_. _In brightest days, and blackest nights_ — it might be 'day' and not 'days,' come to think of it."

"I think it's charged," Batman said. 

"Really?" 

"We'll see." Batman lifted Hal's hand and slipped the ring back on his finger. Maybe he was right, because Hal shifted and took the sort of breath that precedes wakefulness. "Lantern?" Batman requested, made it sound like they were in a board meeting and he was giving permission for Hal to start his part of the presentation. 

Hal's eyes were open enough to see the color of them, the wrong color, but they didn't track anything; if he saw Batman it was because he was leaning over Hal's direct line of sight. 

Barry wasn't sure if he heard right or if it was wishful thinking, but it sounded to him like Hal sighed rather than exhaled, and that he had tried his best to be annoyed. "Hal?" No good. Hal shut his eyes. 

Batman's fingers raked through Hal's bangs and brushed them aside, pinned them down and out of his face. It was bizarre. Barry pondered, in that distant way people deliberated irrelevant things, whether Batman had done this when his Robins were under the weather. Not that Damian seemed the type to allow it, and that's if it were possible for the kid to _get_ sick —

"Are you checking for an eye?" Barry asked incredulously, as it dawned on him. 

He was, he had to be. Batman turned Hal's head to one side and the other. Content there was no third eye, he stepped away. "We should run some scans."

"Scans for what?" 

"Extraterrestrial parasites. Alien contaminants in the bloodstream. I'm not sure yet." 

"Hal would have told us if there was something wrong with him." Not to mention these space voyages weren't anything new to the Green Lantern. That mountain of papers on the desk was proof Hal had taken notes from some higher ups, and as far as Barry was concerned, that he'd taken what precautions he could along with them. 

"Not if he didn't have the chance," Batman said, more to himself. 

Barry mulled it over a minute. Granted, Hal _had_ appeared at the Watchtower with Zaulk and his ilk in tow... "He would have signaled us somehow. It's Hal." 

"Maybe he didn't know," Batman suggested, possibly just to appease him. 

The scanners weren't any help. They utilized all they had at the Watchtower and two different devices Batman had on his person and came up empty-handed. "Magic?" Barry said, exasperated. 

"Must be. You should look him over, check for any physical abnormalities, in case Superman missed something or it manifested since he's been gone. Call me if you find anything." 

"Call — Where are you going?" 

"I need to get back to Gotham," Batman stated. "I'm taking these with me," he said, meaning the papers.

Should have seen that coming. Barry respected the guy and all, but Hal wasn't wrong he had some hypocritical tendencies. Pretty much all of them revolved around Gotham. _Batman_ revolved around Gotham. "Yeah, okay. I'll call."

He would have, had he found anything worth sounding the alarm. Intrusive didn't begin to describe the way he felt manhandling Hal. But it needed to be done and he was the least embarrassing option. "Sorry, buddy. You know how it is with Batman. He's usually right about this stuff." He'd hoped that would wake Hal. It didn't. _Guess I'm taking tomorrow off._

He contacted Iris, then his job, then tried to do what work he could around the Watchtower while intermittently checking in on its only other occupant. The team was still finding their footing with Cyborg off the roster in terms of scheduling and who was supposed to tend to what machinery. Not to complain too much, but truth be told, always seemed to be Barry picking up the slack. 

He pilfered one of the chairs from the Hall of Justice to sleep in, propping his feet on Hal's desk. When he woke up, Hal still hadn't, and the morning dragged. 

By afternoon, Barry regretted having had the nerve to feel bored. He expected a fever when he touched Hal's arm; Hal looked liked he would have one, was sweating like he'd have one, and it was only a matter of determining its severity. Instead there was a corpse-like cold belied by the steady, stable rise and fall of Hal's chest.

For a moment, Barry stared, his mind trying to manage his senses and the conflict of interest between sight and touch. "Hal, I'm going to call Batman." 

Superman was the first on the scene. Wonder Woman not long after. They must have worked their thing out or were neglecting it to focus on Hal, which was the right thing to do, and Barry was grateful not just on Hal's behalf but on behalf of what it meant to be the Justice League. 

"It's a dark magic," Wonder Woman said grimly.

By then, Barry thought he could feel it too. When Batman showed, he stood up from the chair he hadn't realized he'd dropped back into. 

Wonder Woman reiterated her theory as Superman crossed his arms. "So what do we do about it?" 

"I'll call the Titans," Batman said. "Given what she's proven herself capable of, Raven might be able to help." 

Barry had to laugh. "Shazam's gonna be pissed." 

Maybe they worried about Hal. Maybe Batman's " _I'll_ call" was being taken to heart. The other two stayed with him at Hal's bedside, Barry tapping his foot rapidly against the floor. Wonder Woman looked like it might be bothering her, but she didn't say so. No one said anything. He wished _somebody_ would.

Batman did, eventually. He opened the door, but stayed in the hall. "Cyborg isn't there."

"Oh," said Barry. 

"Fortunately, Raven is. Superman." Batman turned to him. Sometimes all they needed was a name and an entire plan was laid out, understood by all. 

Superman nodded and hauled Hal into his arms. He held him that way Barry had asked him not, caught himself, and tried to correct it. 

"It's fine," Barry said. If Hal didn't like it, he could live long enough to bitch about it later. "It's fine. Let's get going."


	4. Dick

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Not good enough, Robin." 
> 
> _Is anything ever for you?_ reflected Robin, Nightwing, Dick Grayson.
> 
> ###### 

###### 

Dick and the Titans, sans Cyborg, had convened outside the tower to wait for Superman, standing in apprehensive silence up until the point Blue Beetle punched Beast Boy in the arm.

Beast Boy grabbed the assaulted limb. "Dude!"

"Point," Blue said. 

"Aw, man, come on. I wasn't... Come on. We're supposed to be waiting for Superman here." Beast Boy's protest was countered and bested by an unconvinced look. " _Fine,_ " he drawled. 

They punched each other in the arm and if the punchee touched it then the puncher scored a point. That was it. That was the whole game. Who started it depending on which of the competitors you asked. Dick would have laughed, but he was already on thin ice with Kory after too many cancelled dates and too much umbrage at Damian's being Damian. One misstep and he worried he'd plunge in, freeze in the chill of her cold shoulder from across the bed later. He didn't _think_ she'd do it, but better not to risk it. 

"I know siblings can be... trying," Kory had said, and Dick knew by comparison to _her_ sister, his let's-say-brother was a saint, "but Damian has made great progress here already." 

"Children," Damian groused. 

Yeah. Sure. Look at all that progress. 

Dick thought he saw Superman, but the speck in the distance turned out to be bird. _She's probably right._ It's not like he was here often enough to see most of what Damian did or didn't do. Hell, he should have been back in Bludhaven already. He was _still_ backlogged from the messes that had accumulated in his time as an ersatz Batman. That whole incident had been... something. It had been something, all right.

 _"You're just some lost little orphan he took pity on."_

Dick thought maybe he'd felt a twinge of it, something you might call resentment. 

_"You'd like it, wouldn't you... if he never came back? Then you get to keep that suit."_

He definitely had then, whether he liked it or not. Some for the son, but more for the father. 

"But I'm blood!" Damian had shouted. "I'm his son!"

Dick said then what he mumbled now, watching Damian glower at the sky, seeing the entitlement even Superman wasn't exempt from. "You certainly are." 

Kory turned to her head to him. "Hm?" 

"Nothing." 

"There he is!" Beast Boy blurted out. Dick half-expected it to be a ploy so he could land a punch on Blue, but no, Clark really was there. He touched down in front of them with who must have been the Green Lantern in his arms. Flash came to a halt beside him. 

"Superman, welcome," Kory said kindly. "And Flash. We weren't expecting you." 

"No one ever is," Flash joked. 

"It's been awhile," Dick said. Superman's strength was one thing, but the balance it took to cradle the Green Lantern and still shake Dick's hand impressed him just as much. 

"Nightwing. How's Bludhaven?" 

"Actually, I've been here the last few days. Gotham before that. You should stop by sometime." 

"To Gotham?" Superman didn't sound too sure. "I don't think Batman would approve." 

"Like I said, you should stop by sometime." 

"Maybe I will," Superman said in good humor, though a bogged down sort, same as Flash's had been. 

"Jeez, he does look bad." Dick had seen the Green Lantern only through screens and the unfavorable image Bruce painted of him, especially after an incident with Scarecrow's henchmen. From the way Alfred told it, Master Bruce's criticisms were simply frustration, few and far between, but Clark said differently. Dick met with him off the clock when he could, to socialize. That's something people who weren't Batman did sometimes. 

A lot of Clark's League stories contained the sequence of words "Then Hal called him a douchebag," or, "Bruce was pretty worked up about it." 

"Let's go inside," Kory said. 

Superman ruffled Damian's hair on the way in. "Right." 

Damian frowned, but didn't say anything. The modicum of respect Bruce had for Clark must have rubbed off on him same as the "frustration" with the Green Lantern; Dick could tell he was watching Hal Jordan from behind the domino mask, bestowing judgment, finding fault. 

"This is some evil magic alien flu, isn't it?" Beast Boy asked, sounding almost thrilled with the prospect. He was certainly thrilled to see Superman, walking so close he'd bump into him if there were any sudden stops. 

"That's what we're hoping to find out," Superman replied.

"Think you've got a fan," Dick murmured, knowing Clark would hear him. 

"I hope our training room will suffice," Kory said. "Raven suggested an open space would be best." 

"Whatever gets the job done," said Flash, glancing at the girl. "Thanks for this. We really owe you one. And, uh, sorry again about the getting possessed and trying to kill you all thing." 

Raven ducked farther under her hood. "It's fine. I was the one —" 

"It's in the past," Damian said brusquely. "She handled Trigon and she'll handle whatever stupid thing Lantern let happen." 

Flash squinted at him before his eyes flickered to Dick. "Was that a compliment?" 

"Believe it or not, probably," Dick said. 

Raven instructed Flash to set Lantern in the center of the room and the rest of them to stand back. Dick listened. Kory was on one side of him, Damian on the other, neither by chance. "Be careful, Raven," Kory called, and her pupil nodded as she sat down, folded her legs, placed the back of her hands on her knees. 

Inter-dimensional polyglot, Dick was not. All he took from Raven's continuous chanting was that she'd have to practice eternal not just to command mastery over her powers, but the art of regulated breathing. Techniques, skills like that got lost and overlooked among the super strength and laser eyes and neon green space wizardry. Or purple, in Raven's case. 

Her eyes were unblinking and aglow. A wind born of nothing worldly and nothing benign kicked up and disturbed everything; Raven's hood, Beast Boy's unsteady stance, Dick's sense of foreboding. Bruce had taught him two things, above all: How to think and when not to. Spurred by instinct, he grabbed Damian and turned him away from the wall close to the millisecond it went up if not down to it. The barrier was translucent but not transparent, and they could hear something — but not Raven, thankfully not Raven — screaming from the other end. 

Damian jerked in his hold, to bash their heads together, to find a way to knee him somewhere, to do whatever it took to get away. Dick let go, grabbed his face, turned his head up. "Trust her," he ordered, all Batman. He could hear it himself over the howl of portent winds and — and whatever else. 

But he forgot, somehow, that Damian didn't listen to anyone, including Bruce. That Damian didn't trust anyone, including Raven. 

Damian broke free and took off. Clark, who had managed to fit both Beast Boy and Blue Beetle behind him, plucked the runaway off his feet and seemed to ignore the flailing that came after, eyes on the chaos; head in the game. 

Dick could hear the scolding. 

_"Get your head in the game, Robin!"_

_Right._ "Right." Dick couldn't find an open. The shield, barrier, the whatever was floor-to-ceiling. A moment later he didn't need one, because the wall was gone, shattering out of existence. "Kory," he shouted, rushing in, knowing she would follow. Maybe he was the one following her.

"Protect them!" Kory called. He guessed to Superman. "Nightwing, there!"

Shadow and smoke, that's what it was, no taller than a child and in the shape of one. When it laughed the room became sonorous. Everything echoed. Dick swiped through the neck with his Escrima sticks, sprang back on his hand and out of the way of Kory's incoming blast. It giggled again, the sound bouncing off the walls, overlapping itself, nearly overwhelming Raven's voice.

"It's the ring!" 

"I've got it!" Dick heard Flash yell, from somewhere. Somewhere. It didn't matter. He had to — 

He had to... 

To — 

The shadow reached out to touch him, the wisp of smoke brushing the bumps of his knuckles. It didn't have a face. How could it be smiling? 

Suddenly he was in the air. Then on the floor. He looked up and through the haze of black he saw Kory, her colors subdued but the light of her hands so bright it might blind him. "Nightwing! _Dick!_ " 

Dick could hear the scolding even now. 

_"Richard John Grayson, what do you think you're doing?"_

But it wasn't scolding, not really. His mother tapped him on the wrist so he'd let the sweets go. Literally caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Lame. 

"Just two," Mom said, "and don't tell your father." 

Dick swore he wouldn't. He never told her Dad had said the same thing earlier. That and, "Eat too many and you'll break the trapeze."

How had he ever thought that was funny?

"Dick?" His mother held her hand out, to help him up the ladder. It was high. Higher than any of the others had been. 

"Come on, son," Dad said. "We can't keep an audience like this waiting."

Rows and rows of them, faceless but smiling. Faceless but laughing. 

Dick shook his head. Something was wrong. He had to — The wires — "Dick," Mom said, grabbing him by the wrist. "Let's go."

"We can't," Dick had meant to say.

"Richard John Grayson," Mom said, so angry. 

"Dick Grayson," Dad said, so disappointed. 

Batman was both. He shook his head because the kick wasn't enough and the punching bag barely swayed. "Not good enough, Robin." 

_Is anything ever for you?_ reflected Robin, Nightwing, Dick Grayson. 

Grayson. 

Grayson. 

" _Grayson!_ " Somebody hit him. Somebody shook him. Somebody screamed for them to stop. "I will not have it, Grayson! Father will not have it! You won't humiliate us like this! Do you hear me?" 

Kory wailed, "Damian, stop!" and instead Damian punched him, shook him again. Ego-centric little prick. 

Dick shoved him off and rolled over, knees and palms on the floor. "Easy," Clark said from beside him. "Dick? You all right?"

"Been better. What I miss?" 

"A stand off," Flash said. "Need help?" 

"Yeah." 

Flash helped him stand and Dick took in the scene: Raven with her arms outstretched, hands held out, her typical pallor further blanched by the effort to keep them up; Kory across from her, ready to attack; between them Hal, on the floor, and above him the ring, encompassed by dingy grey orb that pulsed weakly. 

"We couldn't kill it, but we got it back in the ring," Flash said, harried. "I mean, Raven did." 

"Good work." Dick set his trembling hands firmly at his side. 

"It's not done yet." Raven said it two words at a time, a gasping breath in-between. "It's contained, but fighting."

"Let it come out," Damian hissed. "I'll take care of it." 

"It's not trying to come back out," Raven managed to say. "It's trying to — to go back. To him." 

Probably through sheer willpower alone, she stayed standing. Dick felt they had that in common. "I have an idea," Superman said, placing a hand on Dick's shoulder, then closing in on Hal. He reached out until he was nearly touching the ring's rotund cage. "Let it go and I'll catch it. Then Flash takes Hal and runs for it." 

Damian still looked more than ready for a fight. " _That's_ your plan?"

"It's the best we've got," Superman pointed out. "Raven can't control it forever. Even if drags me after Hal, it'll at least be away from here." 

"Away from us, you mean," Damian accused. 

"That's exactly what I mean." 

"With all due respect, Superman, we can't allow that," Kory said. "It's our job to protect this planet as well. We can't permit something so vile to run amok. We've seen what it can do." She sounded pained to Dick's ears, and if there was a silver lining to this, it was that playing the near-death card would trump any screw ups of his. 

Superman's hand remained where it was. "With all due respect, Kory, you're going to have to. This isn't a discussion, it's a decision." 

"Too much time with Batman," Dick mumbled. Complaining made it easier not to think. He heard Damian grunt beside him; if he didn't know better, he'd think he was agreeing. 

"We'll keep it preoccupied," Superman said. "Try to find a way to contain it long-term. A spell or... hex, or —" 

"Whatever works," Flash offered, hoisting Green Lantern across his shoulders, teetering. "I'm ready." 

Superman nodded to him. "Go ahead, Raven."


	5. Hal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Here's a solution for ya: Give me the ring. It can take care of itself and so can I."

###### 

No better way to start the day — or whatever time it was — than to wake up in a room full of your boys (and for some reason Batman's oldest) with a raging piss boner. Barry called to him during his graceful stumble to the bathroom, but anything not his bladder would have to wait. They probably heard him sighing the blessed prayer of Our Lady My Crotch is No Longer on Fire. Every man on Earth had attended morning services at one point or another... except maybe Superman. Wouldn't surprise him if there was a super immunity to needing to take a leak.

"How was the meeting?" He vaguely remembered reaching the Watchtower. Shazam had been talking at one point. Them not being dead was a good sign, unless this was some afterlife where he had to stand there and make conversation over his stream for all eternity. Hell was real. 

"Not bad," Barry replied. "Superman convinced them not to enslave the human race." 

"Great. Good to know." Finally, _finally,_ he ran out of juice. Figuratively speaking. In the literal sense, it was all water and that barely potable crapola the Ta'uakin called _roskefor_.

Hal turned on the sink and gave his brain a minute to catch up with itself. There was a lot to tell and considering he was drying a bare hand on the midsection of his robes, a lot to be told. "Why's Batman Jr. in my room? Gonna take a shot in the dark here and bet it has something to do with the ring being gone." 

There was a lull. The last thing he wanted to follow that sentence was a lull. Honorary runner-up to Barry's, "Yeah, about that..." 

"Do a guy a favor and grab me something more business casual." 

Hal heard the drawer, then Barry again. "I don't see any —" 

"Joke, Bar. Just give me something less on the pious side, all right?" He opened the door enough to reach out and grab for his clothes, a t-shirt and jeans by default; that's all he'd stowed here. "Thanks, bro. Now about my ring..." 

Barry could have been a raconteur extraordinaire for all he knew. Didn't amount to much when you couldn't understand him. "Uh huh. Right. Anyone wanna brief me at normal speed?" Hal requested, checking his eyes in the mirror. He wasn't sure why, but he felt compelled to. "I got the part about going to the Titans and the part where my ring is gone, but I already knew that. Did you say evil shadow?"

"Yeah," Robin the First said. Hal knew it was him by process of elimination. "Evil shadow about covers it."

"Flash carried you out of the tower," Superman explained. "The ring kept trying to get back to you. It stopped trying about halfway here. I haven't let go of it, just in case. Nightwing decided to come as a safety measure since he's been in contact with the shadow. I think it's the right call." 

"It must have been me that was — what's the word of the day here? Possessed?" Hal tossed the robes over the shower bar and stepped out. "Because that can't happen to the ring." 

Barry frowned at him. "It's in the ring, Hal. We saw it happen." 

"There's no way." He rubbed at his face and his jaw. This headache sucked harder than any headache before it. _Slept too long and I'll bet dehydrated now._ "Man, my head is murder right now."

Barry dodged his eyes. "Yeah, about that..." 

"You dropped me, didn't you?" 

"You're not exactly a lightweight. I think that thick skull of yours can handle it. Most of it's probably the evil shadow bit."

"Yeah. Great. Thanks, Barry." There were two chairs by his bed, Nightwing slumped down in one. "Hey," Hal offered, going to his desk to grab the mug he'd left there, on top of his... "Did you people have a garage sale while I was gone? Where's all my —" 

"Batman," Barry said. Fuckin' ridiculous the number of things you could say just by saying "Batman." 

"Won't let anyone else in his sandbox but can't keep his hands off the other kids' toys. Sounds about right." Hal snatched his mug before someone made off with it and backtracked to the bathroom to fill it. 

"When were you in Hawaii?" 

"I took a girl there that week we cancelled the meetings."

"We didn't cancel," Barry said. "You just didn't show up." 

Hal chugged down a breath's worth of water. "I was busy."

"Busy vacationing, apparently," Barry said, unimpressed. 

"Yeah, in Hawaii. Sue me." 

Full disclosure: It wasn't Hawaii's fault. 

That had been a rough... how long was it even, total? A month?

The first Batmanless meeting, Hal had gone to Gotham to let him have it about ditching class again. "Wasn't he the one we said we oughta 'solidify the team?'" he'd complained. "Consider me solidifying." He'd thought, at the time, it must have something to do with that Batspawn of his. Damian Wayne had either died, as children were wont to do when trekking the mountain ranges of Asia alone, or returned and possibly killed someone, as children were wont to do when sired by Batman and raised by assassins. 

Hal hadn't been able to track either of them down. "Oh, you're gonna hear it next week, Spooky," he'd said, hovering over the streets of Gotham, taking one last look. "You are gonna hear it." 

But Bats didn't show _to_ hear it. Alfred Pennyworth (ironic name right there, working for a billionaire) told them "Master Bruce" had been gone "precisely two weeks, 10 hours," that he'd been searching for some asshole named Chuckie Sol who'd probably gotten whatever he had coming to him, and maybe...

"We'll find him, Alfred," Superman had said, and Alfred bowed his head with, "Please do try, Master Clark. He's never been missing this long without notifying me." 

Missing. 

Sweeter than "dead," but still bitter on his tongue, Hal had flavored it with "in Action." Missing in Action. Bruce Wayne was no serviceman, but by rights he was a soldier of his own brand and making. Hal respected that. Respected him, which it turned out, you could do with Batman while still wanting to punch him square in his smug face. 

He and Superman had made beeline to Gotham soon as Alfred's video feed shut off. They'd found a city without its Dark Knight, a factory burnt and collapsed, rubble and detritus and nothing else. Steel didn't bend, so Superman shouldn't bend. But he'd been bowed, bent, and broken there in front of that building, in front of where... 

Hal had made some childish noise of disgruntled disbelief. "Hey, come on." Because seriously, come the fuck on. This wasn't some beat cop in over his head they were talking about. This was —

"Batman," Superman had mumbled, punching the ground, _through _the ground. Fuckin' ridiculous what you could hear just by hearing "Batman."__

"This is one of his plans," Hal had said, with a mocking emphasis on the plans. "No way he's dead for real. Not Batman."

That night, Hal let the base know he was taking an early vacation, sick aunt, no time to explain, and went through his little black book (that was actually a drawer with numbers stashed in it) until he found a busty blonde with time on her hands and a penchant for piña coladas. He figured the League meeting was either going to be cancelled or a fool's errand where everyone sat around looking funereal or outraged for a man who wasn't even dead. 

"Crazy moron couldn't die in a fire if he tried."

And Hal, as he often was, had been right. 

He caught himself watching Nightwing, wondering what it had been like for him, the not knowing. "What?" 

"Any idea what might be in the ring?" Superman repeated.

"Yeah," Hal answered. "It ain't pretty." He refilled his mug and went to sit on the end of the bed. "Take it you noticed the extra eyes?" 

"Hard to miss."

"Yeah, well..." Hal's mouth was dry again. He drank half of what was in the mug and lowered it between his knees, both hands curled around it. It wasn't pretty either. Tacky, he'd call it. He didn't remember buying it, but he remembered filling it with stronger stuff than water over and over. He could have used a round or six right now. "Turns out they're not all sporting one and they're not born with them either. It's a nobility thing. There's a ritual. When is there not a ritual with this magic crap?"

"Hal," Barry said, too quiet. Everything was too quiet. Maybe they could hear his hands shaking around this stupid novelty mug. 

He steadied them. He was the Green Lantern, damn it. "Turns out it's more of a sacrificial thing. When a noble kid is ten, they take them and another one around the same age to these slabs that look like some demonic Stonehenge kind of shit. I don't know how the selection works for the second kid — I'd say they're servant kids or lower-ranked family members, but — they take these two kids and rip the soul out of one, put it in the other, and there you go, third eye." 

Barry swallowed, wiping his forehead. "That's..." 

"Yep. It's about how it sounds. No one briefed me on it, so going to go ahead and say no one knew." 

Nightwing murmured something. 

"I was too slow on the uptake that first time to do anything about it. I wasn't supposed to be there at all. Nea — The princess invited me, or I mean, she dragged me to it. Can't invite someone in a language you don't speak." Reliving it turned Hal's stomach and suddenly he was glad he'd stuck with just water. Having trouble enough keeping that down. "I called you after that." He looked up at Superman, hoping his expression was neutral as he was trying for. "I couldn't risk bringing it up then. Jarko — the translator — he was always lurking around. Would've been suspicious if _wasn't_ talking about finding ways to intimidate them, so we were good there. Matter of fact I _had_ to talk you up, knowing he'd have his ear to the wall and run back and tell Zaulk. But there was another ritual going on that night, and if I'd clued them in I was planning to stop it... " 

"Did you?" Barry asked, unassuming. 

"I tried to," was the best Hal could tell him. "Christ, man, I tried."

"But you only managed to interrupt it," Nightwing said thoughtfully. "That creature in the ring is the essence of the sacrifice you tried to save?" 

"You got it," Hal said. "I got the princess to take me to the next one and as soon as I saw an opening I grabbed the kid and took off." He hadn't known what he'd do from there, exactly. Tell the Guardians. Tell the League. Just carelessly start another war, you know. Typical work week. "But there was too many of them. They got me down and killed the kid anyway, and for nothing. The ritual didn't work — or I guess it did, but not how they wanted."

"As soon as they left, the ring lost its power," Barry said. "I'm guessing you both were running on empty for awhile."

"Guess so." 

"That could be how it was able to possess the ring," Nightwing said, before Barry could. "Not charged enough to fight it off..." 

Hal watched him, the lines peeking over the domino mask, the way he sat. "I know he didn't make you with some hot piece of assassin like Robin 2.0, but man, you've got Batman written all over you." He didn't mean it as compliment or as an insult, but Nightwing looked on the offended side. Sucked to be him then; Hal was too worn down to care about his possible social faux pas. "All right, give it here," he said, facing Superman. 

Superman stared at him, unconvinced, and Barry said in that don't-do-what-you're-doing way, "Hal." 

"Listen, if there's something in there, I'll get it out." 

Superman tightened his fist. "Or it will possess you." 

"Trust me, you don't want that thing anywhere near you until the shadow is out," Nightwing said. 

"That _thing _is one of the strongest weapons in the cosmos," Hal told him curtly. Like he'd said, all Batman.__

"Right. My bad, sorry. I didn't mean it like that." 

Or maybe not. 

A day or two after Darkseid had been expelled from their reality, Hal found some time at work to Google Bruce Wayne _and_ Batman. Turned out Bruce Wayne had a ward. Turned out Batman had a Robin. The pieces kind of put themselves together. 

There wasn't much on Robin beyond some blurry Youtube footage and a few snapshots forever making the rounds on social media, but Dick Grayson? Kid was photogenic, smiling like he was born for show business, which Hal learned he more or less had been. His apology sounded genuine as his smiles had looked — not to mention he'd apologized to start with. 

"I take it back," Hal said, without malice. "You're not anything like the Bats." 

"How did you get them to let you go?" Superman asked, staring down at his fist. Probably through it and at the ring. 

"One, I'm with the Guardians, that counts for something. Two, I... got lucky, I guess. According to Jarko, Zaulk said he'd just use another kid. Namedropping you a few times probably helped. Pisses me off I do all the legwork out there and you're the famous one but them's the breaks." Barry sat beside him and the mattress dipped. Hal let their shoulders touch. 

"Guardians or no Guardians, sounds a little too reasonable for those guys," Superman said. "Didn't you say they don't deal in reason?"

"Yeah," Hal admitted. "I know there has to be more to it, but I wasn't going to last there much longer and if I'd die no one would ever have known what they're really doing." 

"We need to find out what they're planning," Superman said, "but for right now, I should keep the ring until Raven finds something." 

Hal drank what was left of his water. "Raven who's what, twelve? Fourteen at most?" 

"She can hold her own," Barry said. "She kind of saved the world while you were gone. All the Titans did." 

"I'm sure it's a great story and I can't wait to hear it while I'm kicking evil shadow ass —" 

"Be patient. We're working on a solution," Superman said, at the same time Barry started up with, "Hal." 

"Are we? Looks to me like we're standing here." Well, he wasn't. He stood just to make a point, handing his mug to Barry without thinking. Barry took it with probably as much thought. "Here's a solution for ya: Give me the ring. It can take care of itself and so can I." 

"Hal, it was _killing_ you," Barry pleaded. "I found you — You were about frozen solid. Can you not do something stupid? This one time, just think before you barrel into things. Come on. What good is it you made it here if you die now?"

Hal glared at him, but it wasn't Barry he was mad at it. He didn't think he'd _ever_ been mad at Barry, come to think of it. "Fine, but I can't sit here while a bunch of teenagers do all the work. Where the hell is everyone? Let's call in the Cavalry and get this worked out so our big gun over there will get his paws off my merchandise." 

"Batman's in Gotham," Barry said. No surprise. "Ask Superman about Wonder Woman. Not sure about Shazam. Arthur doesn't know about any of this yet — oh, Cyborg joined the Titans." 

"What? We lost Robocop?" Hal pressed his palms against his eyes. "I leave for a few weeks and this place falls apart." 

"I'll go get Wonder Woman," Superman said, but when he moved Hal stepped between him and the very idea he was about to take off. 

"No. No way. You're not going anywhere with that." 

"Hal, relax," Barry said. He sounded tired. Had he sounded tired this entire time? "How about this? I go get Cyborg, and we get everyone else. Titan or not, we're still on the same team when it counts." 

"I'll call Batman," Nightwing said, rising. Hal had forgotten about him. "He'll certainly want to hear this." 

"Did we make Wonder Woman stand in the hall?" Hal asked, when all who remained in the room were him, Supes, and his ring demon. Things were coming back in bits and pieces, but not enough to paint a whole picture on his own. 

Superman he wasn't feeling particularly artistic. 

But Hal was in no mood to have his ring held hostage, and yet here they were. "Bro, if she's _that_ angry, you're going to need that hand eventually." 

"Shut up, Hal."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ###### 
> 
> First, thank you everyone for the comments and kudos and things. 
> 
> This fic at times gets brain-melty to write because there's so much to remember and double check. In light of that a quick reminder to the continuity order: 
> 
> _Justice League: War_  
>  Son of Batman  
> Throne of Atlantis  
> Batman vs. Robin  
> Batman: Bad Blood  
> Justice League vs. Teen Titans 
> 
> I know _Flashpoint_ is allegedly part of it, but that always bothered me. (Spoilers incoming if you somehow haven't seen it yet.) At the end, Flash gives Batman a note from his father, and supposedly the Darkseid appearing post-credits starts the New 52 continuity. Yet in _War_ , Flash is surprised Batman is real and falls all over himself during their introduction. Like. Wat. 
> 
> Anyway, due to I'm sure budget and writing constraints and it being a Batman-only movie, there's no mention of Alfred alerting the League that I noticed regarding Batman's absence; however, I'm presuming that Alfred would do so and that Batman would want him to. Lying to a boardroom of suits about Bruce being in a jungle is different than lying to the League. 
> 
> In this fic, at least, Alfred tells them a day or two before Nightwing shows up in the Batcave in _Bad Blood_ , and as a result the League understandably investigates it.
> 
> I may write a one-shot companion fic to this one detailing that more. We shall see.


	6. Bruce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "He's learning to work as a team," Batman said. "To be more than what they made of him." And maybe he was finally learning too, how to be a father. Specifically, a good father.

###### 

His head was pounding, but his coordination had suffered worse. No nausea. No ringing in his ears. _No concussion,_ he presumed.

"Hard to believe a guy with a burlap sack on his head could get the jump on Batman." 

"We're only human."

"You really believe that?" 

He'd once stated Batwoman was impressive, but a potential danger to the city and herself. Two of those things were still true. "Are you saying you don't?" 

Batwoman held the steering wheel tighter. "As I recall, 'normal' people don't bust through glass windows into warehouses full of people ready to kill them. I just meant — You know, I don't know what I meant anymore. Forget I said anything." Backtracking wasn't like her, but neither was failure. He knew what it felt like to be younger, newer, not ready to accept that the losses would always outweigh and outnumber the gains. "This city really pisses me off," Batwoman seethed.

That fire of hers had been lit eternal the day depraved men spilled her family's blood on her hands. He couldn't douse it, couldn't mitigate it. He could only see it didn't burn away the good in her and leave a monster to rise from the ashes. "Calm down, Kate." He had no expectations to soothe her anger, only an obligation to try, always try, even in vain.

Batwoman was bleeding from somewhere under her perforated mask. "Yeah, yeah." Both her lenses were missing, though he couldn't have said when she'd lost them. She looked askance at him. "Are you sure your butler can fix that arm?"

He was going to need a patch job on right side, an explanation for a black eye come his next board meeting, and Alfred to reset his left shoulder; his lower arm and hand weren't discolored enough to concern himself with the blood vessels. No long-term damage, this time. "He knows what he's doing. You —" 

"If that sentence contains the word 'hospital' in the context of, 'I'm going to let my butler play nurse, but _you_ should go to the hospital,' I'll pull this thing over." 

"I was going to say you should stay and have him look you over," Batman said. "And it's my car." 

"But I'm the one driving it. Speaking of which, I hope you don't mind starting a carpool since this cost me my bike."

"Are you referring to when I told you to wait outside —" 

"And I drove through two locked doors and rescued you as you were about to take a bullet between the eyes?" 

"— and watch for the Scarecrow." 

Batwoman cast him another fleeting glance. "Maybe he did slip out. Maybe he wasn't there to start with. I'm not going to apologize for keeping your brains from splattering across the floor... I feel bad enough as it is for letting you get captured by that — by Talia."

"You shouldn't." There were better alternatives, words Dick could have offered her without trying. His lesser efforts didn't seem to appease her guilt, or even abate it.

"Well, I do. It's a nice change of pace, me saving you for once."

"Good work," he said, when his approval was all he had to give.

The rigid line of Batwoman's shoulders sank, at ease. He supposed that was the best he could hope for, although her peace of mind didn't last long: A group of men no older than Dick rounded the corner, and their alarm was immediate. All four took off down an alley between a strip club and a dilapidated apartment building. "You okay if I brake for a quick drug bust? I recognize that one with the beard. He's been dealing around high schools."

"You're already bleeding. The P.D. can handle it."

The Batmobile screeched to a halt. "I was asking because of your shoulder, not for permission," Batwoman said passively. "Sit tight," and she was gone, off to compensate for the night's shortcomings. Eventually a multitude of gunshots and shouts signaled she'd reached her targets.

Batman sighed, closemouthed, replaying the night from start to finish. He'd hoped to have the Scarecrow apprehended before word of his breakout hit mainstream media. Dick was like him, a veteran, accustomed to having his best efforts wasted, but Damian... Damian was like Kate. This was going to rile him.

The bearded man ran from the alley, across the street, and through a door half off the hinges. Batwoman wasn't far behind. 

There'd been a time between Dick's departure and Damian's arrival the only stubborn colleague Batman dealt with in Gotham was Lantern, and that was different; a matter of encroachment, and fortunately, brevity. Now Gotham had more than him: Batwoman, Batwing, Batgirl. They'd all proven themselves capable. They'd furthermore proven that capability was as much for being reckless as efficient... but it was good to have them here. Good for Gotham. Good for him, and by association, for his son.

The Batmobile's monitor flashed. He winced, leaning forward with his good arm to take the audio-only call. "Batman." 

"Hey, it's me," Nightwing said. "We've got a vengeful shadow ghost on our hands. Fun times." 

"And Lantern?" 

"Not happy, but okay. I should say it's really more on _his_ hand. It possessed the ring, not him. We couldn't kill it so Raven put it back and Superman's been holding on to it. Literally."

"Put Lantern on."

Batwoman emerged from the building. She walked alone, aright, unhurried.

"I can't," Nightwing said. "He's at the Watchtower and I'm heading back to the Titans. Bruce, maybe give the man some time to —"

"I told you I'd handle it," Batwoman said, winded, back in the driver's seat. Sirens were blaring in the distance. "And before you ask, I already called an ambulance."

"Katey?" 

"Nightwing." Batwoman smiled as she started the car. "How are you?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"Try me."

"Another time," Nightwing said. "I gotta go. We'll catch up soon. Nightwing out." 

Batman carefully reclined back to let the seat bear his weight. "You shouldn't have followed him in there alone." 

"Probably not." Batwoman had a way of bypassing the apologetic tone typical when admitting wrong, while still technically admitting it. "What was that about? League business?" She swerved to avoid an oncoming police vehicle, and again to cut off a pedestrian. 

"Something like that."

"What kind of prerequisites does the Super Friends Club have, anyway?" 

"A driver's test," Batman said blandly.

"Funny." Batwoman turned the next corner sharp enough to skid against the curb. "I'm only curious. Trust me, I can live without my own action figure. I have a hard enough time keeping Renee in the dark about this much. She's a detective all right."

"Trouble in paradise?"

"A rough patch," Batwoman corrected. "Nothing we won't get through, provided we both live long enough... She mentioned maybe adopting one day. Far off in the future, I mean. I'm not sold on it, but on the other hand, I could use my own Robin. How's the kid doing?" 

"He's improving."

"I hope that goes for the version behind the mask too."

As far as he could tell, Damian had developed a stern indifference toward Katherine Kane, something on the brink of respect. That alone was more favoritism than Damian showed most people. Meanwhile, Kate was committed to referring to him as "the kid" in and out of uniform. She always stayed close to him in the field, though. That was what really mattered.

"He's learning to work as a team," Batman said. "To be more than what they made of him." And maybe he was finally learning too, how to be a father. Specifically, a good father. "He's made progress."

Batwoman nodded. "I'm not trying to step on any toes here, but Renee has a few cousins his age... One's having a birthday party next weekend."

"Not that much progress," he was sure.

They pulled into the Batcave. "Maybe one day," Batwoman said conversationally, the corners of her lips quirked. "Someday soon." 

As much as he'd liked to have Alfred examine her injuries first, his shoulder wasn't going to wait any longer. He braced his good arm against the examination table and breathed. A strip of leather they kept for just such an occasion was set between his teeth. 

"On three, Master Bruce," Alfred said. He knew the routine. Alfred would get to two, then he'd — "One," and there was a sickening noise, not quite a crack and not quite a pop.

Bruce hissed, bowed over the table, gripping the end. 

"Apologies, sir," Alfred said. "From the looks of things you were terribly careless tonight." 

"We're only human," Kate said. She'd been standing in front of the cave's computer with her mask down, watching and re-watching the grainy footage they'd pulled from the dock's security cameras. The cut on her forehead had already stopped bleeding.

Alfred ushered her over to clean it regardless. "Words easier said than heeded, I'm afraid. You should phone the Justice League, sir." 

"No sign of Scarecrow, by the way," said Kate.

"I take it Dick called." Bruce sat and replayed the footage. From the looks of it, Kate was right: no one went in or came out of that place they weren't already aware of. 

"Master Clark, as it happens," Alfred said.

"Clark?"

"Indeed, sir. He was concerned, understandably so. Master Dick suffered a terrible ordeal. Some sort of black magic-induced episode?" 

Bruce couldn't tell from his tone if he was scolding him for not knowing, or presuming he did know, and hadn't handled the matter well enough. He turned his chair to the pair at the examination table, and saw Kate's eyes were no less suspicious. "Something's up with Dick?" she asked. To Alfred, not to him. "He called us too. He seemed fine then." 

"He's since recovered. Or so I'm told."

Kate looked as convinced as Alfred sounded. "When we're done here, I'll call and check in." 

Bruce had no doubt she'd try, albeit to no avail. By time Alfred got her home, Dick would be otherwise preoccupied in Kory's company. Chances were he was already. 

_Why didn't he say anything?_ But he already knew the answer... and maybe Dick had tried. Given him an opening he'd overlooked, an opportunity to be coerced. 

_"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."_

He dimmed the monitor and let his aching head rest on the width of his palm, cape and cowl set aside. The hush and the darkness took him back to the time before a Robin, when there were too many rooms with too many memories, occupied by no one but ghosts. _You haven't learned anything._

The monitor awoke suddenly and overcast the shadows, too damn bright. Bruce lifted a hand to shield his eyes while they adjusted. 

"Hiya, Spooky," Jordan said. "Supes called earlier, but the butler said you weren't home yet. Ready to come out and play?" 

He recognized the distinctive clattering, but didn't assign a source until he saw a glass in the corner of the screen, tipped back barely enough to glimpse its amber-colored contents and too many ice cubes. Jordan made no secret of his drink, himself slouching, arm slung over the back of his chair. "Guess you were busy getting the crap beat out of you," he said offhandedly, and then downed what was left. 

"Overdid it on the ice."

Jordan's brows raised as though this intrigued him. "Who gives a crap? Not exactly top shelf stuff here." His amusement was as watered down as his vice. "We don't all have pockets deep as Bruce Wayne's. Some of us have a thing called ' a budget." He licked his lips and shifted forward, wiping a hand across his forehead. 

"Are you —" 

"Nah," Jordan said, wiggling his fingers, as if that level of dexterity proved all he needed to. "No." He held the glass well within view, said, "Second and last of the evening," and sat it back down. 

Bruce wasn't sure he trusted that tally. "Where's Superman?" 

"Arguing with Wonder Woman in the other room. My room, actually." Jordan sounded a mild sort of bothered, but there was blatant annoyance in the shift of his jaw. 

"And holding your ring," Bruce recalled. 

"Always in the know somehow, huh, Spooky?" Jordan rocked the glass, held in place by the press of his fingertips, gazing down at the melting ice. "Maybe use those detective skills to help Barry find Cyborg so we can find Shazam. Why is it Robocop is the only one who ever knows where Captain Thunder is? And for my follow up question, why would you let him bail out for the Titans?"

"He's not League property, Lantern." 

"Yeah, I know," and it sounded like there'd be more, but Jordan instead swiveled his chair to the left, looking off at something beyond the scope of the monitor. He turned back without explanation.

"Did you know about the ring?" Bruce asked. 

"No. You think I wouldn't have said something? Really, Bats." Jordan set the glass down and planted his elbow on the surface in front of him, leaned his head on his fist. "I heard from Superman you had your own evil shadows while I was away." His eyes, Hal Jordan's proper eyes, roved the Batcave, but came back to Bruce when he asked, "You seriously paralyzed yourself?" 

"A nerve toxin —"

"So, yes. Man, you're crazy... and Robin really took down our not-so-friendly neighborhood Kryptonian solo?" 

"He did," Bruce confirmed evenly. He made a point to not take pride in that, given the circumstances. 

Jordan likely intended to whistle, but ended up with more of an exhale. "Can't say I agree with your methods, but I can't argue the results. Nice parenting. The next generation of crime fighters already ousting us. I'll tell you, kids are tough." He slipped an ice cube past his lips and broke it between his teeth. Alfred would have been aghast just to hear it. "They're tough..." 

Beware the fury of a patient man: an adage Bruce's father had always liked. 

... and be wary the melancholy of voluble one. "Hal." 

"I fucked up," Jordan said abruptly. He sat up, shoulders squared, watching Bruce watch him. "Figured hey, why not be the first to tell Batman something for once? But I guess I'm not doing that either, huh? Time to hop in your Batplane or Batcar or Batsomething and get over here."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ###### 
> 
> For those unawares (I like to add the 'S,' makes me feel like Scar from _The Lion King_ ), in this chapter, Bruce references a somewhat overlooked bonus short set during _Throne of Atlantis_ in which Nightwing and Robin apprehend the Scarecrow. Emphasis on short; it's literally 45 seconds. 
> 
> As much as I loved seeing Dick and Damian punch people in tandem, it was also kind of unfortunate for me because Scarecrow has been one of my favorite villains from the get-go and he gets pwned in under a minute. But that's neither here nor there, same as me saying _Bad Blood's_ version of Katherine Kane is a gift to us all. #bless


	7. Damian

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _‘Home is the place where, when you have to go there,_  
>  They have to take you in.’ - Robert Frost 
> 
> Raven reveals the true nature of their specter. Damian contends with the notion of being afraid, and not even for himself.

_Their savior comes here late at night, when it's quietest, and he gets past the guards, no matter how many eyes they have. Their savior can do it. He can do anything._

_He hangs from the side of their prison, gripping the bars of the small window to keep his balance. He says he'll get them out. Him, and the princess he loves, and the being who has come here from some far away place._

_The being is very ugly. His hair and eyes are too light, and his skin is a color unlike any they've seen before. Even their savior doesn't know what to call it. But he says he's strong._

_There is going to be a war with the being's people. Many will die. They could die, after all this. They need to know that. But it won't be in vain, their savior swears, and it won’t be as anyone but themselves. He promises it won't be._

_The other children cry, but the boy is ready. He is not afraid of war and he is not afraid to die. He is afraid of far worse things._

_They say after, you're awake forever, but not as you._

_The next day, he is chosen._

_They carry him to the noble boy, who looks frightened too, and he didn't imagine he ever could, but he pities this trembling child who will become his new prison, who will grow and train and become one of the greatest warriors in the universe because of him._

_The being from some far away place suddenly lifts him up, but soon he is falling._

_He dies that night. He knows that he does._

_Their savior, his brother, lied to him. This was nothing if not in vain._

"That's what I felt," Raven said.

Damian released her hand and Jaime's; Jaime released Garfield's; Garfield held on to Raven's, squeezing it, watching her from the corner of his eye. 

They'd gathered in a secluded copse past the open space around Titans Tower and bordering the dense forestland behind it. Their empath remained where she was, but the rest moved to break the circle.

Damian set his back to the trunk of a tree, Jaime at his side and Garfield below them, spread out on the grass. A firefly floated over Garfield’s head and he raised his hand to catch it. "That was heavy." 

"Really heavy," Jaime said. 

“That wasn’t what happened to Grayson,” Damian said. He didn’t know what _had_ happened, but whatever it was, it had been worse than the intangible memories of a despondent child. “That could have been a ruse to make you stop your spell,” he told Raven. 

“Didn’t feel like a trick to me,” said Garfield, the insect having crawled to the summit of his thumb. Its green light blinked twice before it flew away. 

“It wasn’t,” Raven said. 

Damian’s eyes drifted to the tower. Grayson and Starfire weren't likely to resurface from her room at any point in the next hour, and he supposed Grayson had earned whatever libidinous undertakings she propositioned him with. Starfire would need that time to regain her composure as well. 

He understood. Grayson dying on the floor must have been unsightly for her. It was… unnerving for him too. 

"You okay, man?" Garfield pried.

Not pried, Damian reminded himself. Asked. Concern, not impertinence. 

He was a quick study, but acclimating to social convention had proven more of a challenge than simple weapon mastery and mountainous peregrination. "I'm fine.” 

"I know you've got the ninja badass thing going on," Garfield said, "but Nightwing wiped out _bad._ It's not hurting your rep for it to bug you. Dude's pretty much your brother." 

"He’s not my brother."

"But he totally is." 

Jaime thumped the back of his foot against the tree's trunk. "Gar, _presta atención._ We need to decide our next move."

"Okay, okay." Garfield shifted into in an owl and landed on the branch suspended above Jaime. He shifted back and was hanging from his legs, swinging his fist to strike Jaime's shoulder. "Point." 

Jaime smirked. "Nope. I didn't touch it." 

"Aw, man.” Garfield, still upside down, swayed in the passing wind. Everyone seemed to feel the unnatural chill of it but him. “Hey, I've got an idea."

Within an hour of meeting the Titans, Damian had deemed Garfield Logan a menagerie of beasts housed in an ineffectual child, at best the weakest link on a frangible chain. But he'd been... That was a judgment he'd since found to be unfair and inaccurate. Garfield's demeanor wasn't much unlike Grayson's: They both laughed at movies they'd already seen. They were both... exuberant, Garfield more so.

But his ideas were usually stupid ones, and this was no exception. 

"I say we kick his phantom booty, calm him down, and then he joins us. We could use a friendly ghost," Garfield said gleefully. 

"I don’t trust it," Damian said. 

Jaime snorted. Not condescendingly. There was a middle ground between insult and praise where teenagers were concerned. "You don't trust the mailman.” 

Garfield pulled himself upright on the branch. "Whoa, head rush… We have a mailman?" 

"I don’t trust things that try to kill me," Damian said. Sensible. He refused to sound argumentative about something so glaringly obvious. 

Raven looked to him, and he impulsively looked the other way. Which was ridiculous. It was ridiculous all the other times he'd done it. It must have given the impression he was angry with her. Maybe he was. "I'm sorry for what happened to your brother, Damian." 

"Maybe it could have gone better," Jaime said, "but I think you made the right call. What else were you gonna do?"

 _Banish it,_ Damian thought. _Kill it._ But he recalled Father's mantra: _Justice, not vengeance._ Would Batman think so this time? Did the extent to which Damian was supposed to value life carry through to death? "You did what you thought you should,” he said quietly. “What you thought was right,” and most of all, “Grayson would have wanted you to if he’d known." 

Jaime said, “And Nightwing’s fine.” He chuckled. “Better than fine now.”

Garfield jumped to the ground beside him. "We should wait and see what Vic says.” 

“If we tell Cyborg, he’ll tell Father,” Damian said. 

“Are we... not doing that?” Garfield glanced at Jaime, who shrugged.

Damian thought first of Anton Schott and those children he’d caged and mutated. Either this spirit was what Raven thought, and lashing out, or it was as he’d said, a trick. Regardless, “They wouldn’t let us handle Trigon on our own until they didn’t have a choice. All they’ll do is try to keep us out of the way. They’ll sideline us.”

" _They_ might, but Vic’s on our team now. Besides," Garfield said, hunched over and wiggling his fingers in what Damian supposed was meant to pass for menacing, "if we're going to steal the ring back from Superman, we'll need a spy." 

“Don’t know about that plan," Jaime said, though the absurdity of it appeared a source of delight for him. "Stealing from Superman?" 

"Damian got a demon out of his body. He can come up with a plan to get a ring out of his hand. Right?" Garfield grinned and held his own hand up for a high five Damian had refused him before, and would now, and no doubt would again. He sighed. “One of these days, you won’t leave me hanging.” 

"We could tell the League ourselves," Jaime suggested. "I think they respect us more now. They might listen.” He paused as the scarab’s red eyes flickered like the back of a firefly. “But the scarab agrees with little man.” 

"If Kory finds out, she might ground Raven for a year for lying about not being able to dispel a ghost that almost killed her boyfriend," said Garfield, in one breath. It was almost impressive. “And the Green Lantern will be pissed," he added, elongating the singsong curse.

"No," Raven said, firm. "I don't know about Damian's father or the rest of the League, but I felt the Green Lantern too. He won't go against us... and Kory has never grounded anyone."

“Is that a thing that could happen?” Jaime wondered, then he said, "Lantern does seem more chill than the rest, but that's in front of the cameras. Doesn't mean he is for real."

Garfield let a passing firefly glide through his hands. "Dude works for Batman, doesn't he? How chill can he be?” He gazed at Damian sheepishly. “Uh, no offense.”

"We should tell them," Raven said. “We don’t have time for much else, and we don’t have a plan.” 

“Okay." Garfield slumped against the tree, grumbling about spies. “Would’ve been cool, though.” 

Jaime dragged his teeth over his bottom lip. "Okay, I'm in. Damian?”

Damian clenched his jaw. “Fine.” 

The path that led them to the tower was the same one leading Grayson away from it. He was in uniform, mask in place, his hair damp. Damp, and scented the same as Starfire’s, Damian noticed when he was closer. “Is this normal teenagers-emerging-from-forests-late-at-night or something I should worry about?” Grayson asked, smiling.

“I see you’ve recovered,” Damian said. His voice was aggressive. His stance was aggressive. He hadn’t necessarily meant for them to be. “Not that it would have happened had you not sicced the Kryptonian on me.”

“Oh, yeah?” Grayson’s brows went up. “You think you would’ve done better?” 

“We’ll just… give you dudes a minute,” Jaime said. The others needed no further urging to leave them. 

Grayson said nothing for a moment, waiting. The ease with which he’d been carrying himself was gone now. Damian felt guilty for that, a little, but it didn’t mean he was wrong. “I know I would have.”

“Sure, Damian,” Grayson said sharply. He was on the move. Going forward. Going past him. “I need to get back to the League.” 

“What did it show you?” He’d meant — He thought he’d meant for it to be a question. It sounded more of a demand to his own ears, and to Grayson’s, who turned back to him, frowning. 

“Damian —” 

“You were reckless,” Damian accused. “That was an ill-advised strategy, if I should be so generous as to _call_ it a strategy.” 

Grayson relaxed, and Damian didn’t understand how he could do that. How he could stop being angry just by deciding not to be. He didn’t understand most of what Grayson did and it was infuriating. “What’s wrong? Did I scare you?” Grayson asked, taunting him or… or maybe not. He couldn't tell. 

"I’m not afraid of anything. If you die, you'll only become a martyr,” Damian pointed out. “Father has enough shrines commemorating the extraordinary Dick Grayson."

“Bruce does love his memorabilia,” Grayson said, too agreeably. He stepped forward. 

Damian wanted to move, but he refused the impulse. An al Ghul didn’t back down for anything, and neither did a Wayne, or a Titan. It didn’t matter which he was. He stayed. 

And so Grayson placed a hand on his head and knelt. “I didn’t die,” he said, as if Damian hadn’t been aware. “So I guess you’re stuck with me,” and he smiled, like that was worth smiling over. 

“Do you believe what Father says? ‘Justice, not vengeance?’” 

Grayson scratched above his brow as he stood, his answer delayed by his next breath. It was slow. Methodical. Stalling, Damian suspected. “It doesn’t matter what we believe, does it?” The tone of it was difficult to interpret. Grayson sounded like it was funny, but also like it wasn’t. “All roads lead to Batman. You’ll see when you grow up and get your own city to protect.”

What did that even mean? “Would you do it again, if he died?” 

“What? Be Batman?” 

Damian didn’t answer. Grayson was at least smart enough to figure that much out on his own. 

“Yeah,” Grayson said gravely. After that his voice lightened, back to that way from before, blithe but not. “Maybe I won’t have to. Maybe you’ll be old enough by then, Robin.” He stretched his arms up and bent back languidly. “Or knowing Batman, he’ll outlive us both.”

Damian had a thickness in his throat that kept him from stating how unlikely that was. He’d already outlived Mother. Grandfather more than once. He had no delusions he’d be survived by his father or by… 

He saw Grayson on the ground, choking, thrashing, and then not moving at all. He’d barely heard Superman, the “Oh no,” from a man who could hear if someone’s heart had stopped, and Damian had thought maybe that meant — 

“Damian?” Grayson reached for him. He could see the shadow of his arm move in the tower’s light. 

He jerked back and snapped, “I’m not a dog." 

Grayson’s hand lingered in the air. “No,” he said, dropping it. “That’s more Beast Boy’s thing, isn’t it?” Was that supposed to be a joke? “Should we hug?” _That_ was a joke. 

“Shut up.” 

Grayson laughed. “You’re making progress, Damian.” 

Damian scowled. Grayson was grinning like an idiot. The jesting was not appreciated. “I mean it,” Grayson said. “Slow progress. _Slow_. But it’s something. I need to go. Try and keep it down. It’s been a long day and Kory’s tired.”

“I’m not a child,” Damian said peevishly, lifting his chin. “I know what you mean. Kane and I have discussed it before.” A slight exaggeration. They had discussed it to the extent of Grayson running off after patrol one night, Damian remarking he was going to Starfire, and Kane saying, “Yeah, but if your dad asks, I changed the subject to protect your innocence.” 

“Thanks, Katey,” Grayson grumbled, brushing back his bangs. 

“If you wanted it to be a secret, you should have tried being secretive,” Damian deadpanned. 

“Oh, come on. Like I’d think a pack of teenagers are that dense.” Grayson waved his hand flippantly and turned. “Let her rest a bit. Being a leader is tough — especially with you around. I have a feeling you’ll learn that one day too.” 

Then Grayson was gone, but Damian remained. He stood there for longer than he could say.

“Uh, hey? Is this what you do when you sneak out at night, stand and stare at the ground?” Garfield quipped from his side. “Yeah. That’s right. I know about it. Your room is next to mine and there’s still a hole in the wall where you chucked your sword through it.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb. “C’mon, Vic’s back. _With pizza,_ ” he sang. 

He had begun to turn, but stopped. He peered curiously at the hold Damian had on his arm. “Um?” 

“Why do…” Damian let go, uncertain of himself, but somehow Garfield heard the question he didn’t ask. He anticipated something simple-minded and sentimental in return. “We’re family” or “You’re my teammate.”

But Garfield grinned the way Grayson had spoken, happy but not happy, and said, “Newsflash: You’re not the only disaster on this team, Boy Brooder. And to everyone else in the world, you’re just another kid so long as you keep your mouth shut. Me? I’m green wherever I go. Nothing’s gonna change that. Nothing's gonna change you guys are all I have. And nothing’s gonna change that _you have left me hanging,_ like, a dozen times now. Up top!” 

Damian stared at him and his raised hands. 

“Maybe not today, or tomorrow, or a hundred tomorrows from now, but one day,” Garfield vowed. "One day."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Somewhat slower post on this one. Boo, having to do actual work-related writing. Damn bills that need paying and pets that expect to be fed every day. 
> 
> Thanks, as always, to all my subscribers, and for any kudos and comments. They're very encouraging. 
> 
> Remember when I said in the tags this would probably be long? Well, it will be. 
> 
> There are a lot of scenes I would like to write that I feel would bog down the primary fic, which is at its core (1) an overarching story line, (2) a Batlantern fic (trust me, we're getting there), and (3) the slow and steady tale of the ever-expanding Batfamily. I've decided I'll post up another fic and place aforementioned scenes there; a sort of "deleted scenes," if you will. 
> 
> Off the top of my head, Vic locating Billy, more Titans, and expanding upon Dick and Kory's interactions.


	8. Hal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Justice League debates the needs of the many versus the needs of the one. 
> 
> But first, marketing.
> 
> ###### 

###### 

Him and Steve Trevor? Kindred spirits. 

The guy was a pilot. That by itself gave them more than enough material to chitchat about over the occasional beer. Then there was — and this one they didn't so much talk about — the fact Superman had swooped in and charmed Diana with his godlike powers and corresponding physique before either of them stood a chance. 

Hal had given up that conquest ten seconds after setting his sights on her. But Steve... 

Steve seemed to think no one noticed he glanced Diana's way twice as often as anyone else's. Never for long and by no means something HR would take issue with. Not like he was smoldering at her across a crowded room, but still, he looked and looked again, and for that Hal's heart went out to the guy. 

Steve's painfully obvious and painfully unrequited infatuation didn't keep the man from doing his job to the best of anyone's ability. Being the government liaison and unaccredited marketing manager for the Justice League was probably an underpaid position, no matter what it was they paid him. Salary: Not enough. Not possibly enough. 

Steve arrived in uniform, as they all had except for Hal. He wore his flight jacket and dog tags through no choice of his own. 

Superman must have tucked the ring under his pillow last night because they'd eventually been forced to settle on a morning meeting: Flash got caught up in some hostage situation (yeah, he would); Batman wanted to review footage for some Gotham thing he had going on (priorities, Spooky); Superman and Wonder Woman were arguing (he hoped that was arguing); and Cyborg claimed he couldn't find Shazam (sounded like a good cover for not bailing on his date, didn't it?). 

So. Yeah. Morning meeting. The scent of coffee and donuts and resentment in the air. 

They had a round table at the Watchtower, but the earthbound headquarters still had the oval-shaped one, and the differences were all too noticeable once you got used to the equalizer that was a circle. Batman sat at the head, Superman across the way at the other end; him, Barry, and Shazam took the right, with Wonder Woman and Nightwing on the left. One of these things was not like the others. 

"And you are?" Steve asked. 

"Nightwing. I'm a temp."

Steve probably ran through the catalog of superheroes he kept in his head. "Right, the first Robin. Are there going to be any more of those now that the Titans have the other one?"

"Depends on if we find time to head down to the orphanage," Nightwing joked lightly, but his humor didn't detract from how ridiculous it sounded like he found the question or the challenging cant of his head. "They have buy-one-get-one on Tuesdays."

Steve looked on the abashed side, if not downright uncomfortable. "Sorry. The higher-ups wanted me to ask." 

It didn't occur to Hal why that might be until Nightwing's tone soured. "No good deed, right? People will think what they want to think." 

"Let's move on," Superman said, to the silent accord of everyone in the room. 

"Approval ratings _were_ the highest they've been since Darksied invaded, but we took a hit losing Cyborg," Steve said, eyeing the tablet in hand. "As did our productivity," he mumbled, exasperated. And back to the formal voice, "Recent polls among the female 18-to-29 demographic... and for simplicity's sake let's say all the male ones, show people are strongly in favor of another woman on the team."

"I would welcome more female members," an enthused Wonder Woman said, raising her empty hand. She'd gotten better about not waving that sword around. Most of the time. 

"I'm supposed to 'strongly suggest' we take Batwoman into consideration," Steve said. 

"Batwoman?" Superman echoed curiously. 

Steve kept his gaze locked on his tablet, but nodded. "Since someone posted that video of her on... Vines? Youtube? Hell, I don't know. It went viral and now they want her. The public are assuming she's Batman's wife. Some kind of crime-fighting power couple."

"Or that he's still a vampire and he sucked her blood, so now they're bonded for all eternity," Shazam said, his feet propped on the table, hands tucked behind his head. He shrugged without bothering to check if anyone had looked at him. "I have the internet. There's fanart."

Hal had a pretty good idea what that entailed. "What the hell is fanart?"

"What it sounds like, genius," Barry japed. Barry who suddenly had a phone out, squinting. 

"Are you googling that?" Hal accused, looking over. The gallery that popped up in the images tab was answer enough. "Holy shit. Let me see that — _whoa_. That is SafeSearch off material."

"Didn't they teach you in kindergarten not to snatch things from people?" Barry huffed, but didn't grab for his phone back. His eyes darted over the salacious imagery then across the table at a stoical Batman, comparing and contrasting. 

"Something you need to tell Iris, Bar?" Hal asked, wholly supportive.

Barry seized the phone, grinning. "Whatever, Grabby Hands."

The other occupants of the room were watching them on mute, except for Shazam and his cackling like a lightning-powered hyena. "Sorry," Barry said, setting the phone on the table, face down. 

"Batwoman has no interest in the League," Batman resumed. 

"Try and convince her," Steve said. "What about Batgirl?" He looked up when Batman didn't answer, saw the disapproval for what it was, and sighed. "Okay, not Batgirl. How's the Watchtower coming along?"

"A work in progress," Batman replied, at the same time Superman said, "Not done yet." 

"Great," Steve said flatly. "How 'not done yet?'"

"The security systems are still being perfected," Batman said. 

"The aesthetics could use some work," Barry added. 

"Funding?" Steve asked. 

"Not a problem," said Batman. 

"Well there's that."Steve faced the computer monitor behind him once it started blinking. A picture of Starfire appeared on the display, her name printed beneath it. 

" _Call from: Starfire,_ " the femininely robotic voice informed them. 

"Accept," Batman said. 

The whole posse had assembled. Starfire stood in the back with Vic, the rest of the Titans gathered up front, Robin the up-frontest of all. Vic nodded to Shazam with an easy smile, but the rest of them ranged from determined to impassive enough to give Bruce Wayne a run for one-third of his wealth. 

"Am I the only one who feels like we're about to be jumped for our lunch money?" Hal asked. Everyone on the cool kids' side of the table thought it was funny. 

"I'll leave you to it," Steve decided, heading for the doors. "Looks like there's a lot on your plate."

Boy, was there ever. 

"We need to discuss the ring," Robin said. 

From what Hal had heard, Damian Wayne was known for his veracity. Hal could now personally testify he deserved to be; the ambiguous power of empathy sounded a matter-of-fact observation once filtered through his Batman Jr. brain. Or it did to him, because he'd been there, survived it, and he knew every word the kid was telling them was true. He could feel the glances his way sure as he could feel the hand Barry placed on his shoulder. He knew how this story ended, but he let Robin finish.

"It knows it's dead and it's angry about what happened," Robin concluded. He paused. Happened to the best of them under Batman's stare, but he was swift on the recovery. "We don't want to hurt him. We won't." 

Batman was quiet, his chair and eyes still facing the screen, while everyone else's were as much pointed to him as Robin. "You sent me here to work as a team, Father," Robin went on, "and that's what I'm doing." 

Batman moved barely enough to indicate he was addressing the older Titans. "And you two?" 

"I don't know," Vic admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "I feel out of the loop on this one..." 

"I support them," Starfire said, sounding like she'd practiced that line in her head first. Hal saw her eyes wander somewhere past Batman. "As Robin said, this is what they've decided."

Batman went to the keyboard. "We'll discuss it," and he killed the call on that ominous note. Didn't anyone say goodbye anymore? 

"From the mouth of babes," Hal said soberly. He hoped they weren't waiting for him to start. He wouldn't know where or how to. 

Luckily their big gun did what he was best at and came to the rescue. "All right," Superman began. "Here's the situation: There's a soul trapped in this ring, a boy. Though it... may not be a boy anymore." 

"Are we gonna discuss the alien invasion part?" Shazam asked, swinging his feet to the floor. "There's places still rebuilding from that demon guy." 

"There are areas still in chaos from Darksied before him," said Wonder Woman, "and the loss of life..."

"Hold on a minute," Barry said, hand gestures aplenty. "Let's assume for a minute this is still a kid. It's _still_ a _kid._ He might have a warped view of the likelihood of this — or these memories and emotions he has are from when they _were_ considering an invasion, before they met us and saw Superman."

Superman turned to Hal, holding the ring up demonstratively. He was getting lax about how the grip he kept on it. "Hal, is there a way to reach the Corps without using this?" 

"It wouldn't matter," Hal said, sitting up straight, trying to sound like he had his shit together. He should have, but he didn't. "Zaulk told us they were backing down. Even if I could bring this to them, it would be his word against mine, and the only evidence of mine is..." Some infuriated kid he'd let die then possess his ring. They were going to sack him for this, no doubt about it, but he didn't need them laughing at him as the door hit his ass on the way out. 

"Surely what we have would be evidence enough," Wonder Woman said, disgusted. 

"For wrongdoings towards their own people, maybe," Hal said. "Enough they might send someone else to look into it. But the rituals and a war are two different things. They're not going to sanction us doing anything on the grounds the Ta'uak _might_ be planning something. There are rules." 

Superman followed that with something so very Supermanesque it almost hurt: "If they _are_ coming here, we could meet them halfway." 

"Maybe you could," Barry said, a voice of reason haling from the land of reality. 

"You and Wonder Woman could maybe survive a fleet or two," Hal said. Maybe. Might didn't make right and it sure as hell didn't make winning a certainty, not this time. "I've seen these warriors and their ships. There's a lot of them, and they're ruthless. It would be a suicide mission — and remember we're talking about planet that hasn't lifted a finger against us."

"They haven't," Superman agreed. "I'm only speaking in theory."

Shazam had his feet on the table again, crossed at the ankles. "We could have another meeting. Cause y'know, the last one was great." 

Leave it to Supes to take that to heart. "Even if we do, there's no telling they're not scheming right in front of us when we can't understand them." 

"What about Kory?" Wonder Woman suggested. "Tamaraneans can learn a language through physical contact, can they not?" She looked at Nightwing expectantly. 

"Yeah," Nightwing confirmed, thoughtful. Hal had, again, forgotten the kid was even there. 

"That doesn't help us if they won't let her in the room," Barry said.

"Maybe she could hide behind the curtains," Shazam said sarcastically. "If we had any." 

They were wasting a lot of time on this. Hal only needed a glance at Batman to tell he was thinking it too. " _If_ I could get them to agree to a second meeting — and that's an if on the scale of 'if I scored a date with Gisele Bundchen' — I would need the ring to do it. Green Lantern they'd listen to. Hal Jordan? No way." 

Superman rubbed at his godlike jawline. "Raven is refusing to exorcise the spirit if it means harming it, and we all know it probably will. There are others we could get in her place. The question is, should we?"

"I mean this child no harm, but I have seen magic like this before," Wonder Woman said. "The child is lost to the darkness. While we remain here, how many more die? We have an obligation to help these people. There are no rules that will tell _me_ otherwise." 

"Is this about that, or are you acting on your pride?" Batman asked. What was usually visible of his face was hidden behind his folded hands. 

Sounding so non-confrontational about it _probably_ pissed Diana off more. She rose, hands on the table, leaning forward. "How dare —" 

"Okay, enough," Superman barked, one arm extended to each of them, like he was about to break up some schoolyard brawl. "We're not going to solve anything by arguing. Let's vote on it. Lantern, it's your ring. What do you think?" 

There were times it was best not to think, to take the plunge and figure out your landing on the way down. "We should help the kid."

"I'm with Hal," Barry followed. 

"Well I'm with her," Shazam said, nodding his head up at Wonder Woman. "I don't like it either, but an evil spirit is an evil spirit. Let's go Ghostbusters on it and get it over with." 

Batman's reticence didn't surprise anyone. "Do I get a vote?" his first Robin asked. 

"It did nearly kill you," Hal said. "Think you're entitled to one."

"I say we help," Nightwing said. "Who's to say it'll take long?" 

"It might." Batman dropped his hands to the table. "The ring functioning could mean the difference between preventing another war." 

"I don't think so, Bats," Hal said, his gaze unwavering. Batman was a brilliant, stubborn jackass, he knew it all too well, but he was wrong about this. "If these guys are coming here, they'll be here. We won't beat them in space, we won't beat them on their own turf, and we won't beat them to the punch."

Superman eyed Batman, waiting, but when it became clear he would continue to hold his peace and withhold his vote, he sighed. "I understand what you're saying, Diana, and maybe you're right, but I agree with the others. We should help." He slid the ring to his palm and his fingers bared down on it. "And we need somewhere to put this."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That Steve Trevor line in _Throne of Atlantis_ makes me laugh no matter how many times I hear it: "No, we changed it last week. 'Justice League' tested better." 
> 
> This chapter was originally supposed to be from Bruce's PoV and internally touch upon the Watchtower situation in greater detail. The way I see it, its condition is similar to that in the _Crisis on Two Earths_ movie where it's bare bones functional with lots of work to be done; thus, much of their business is still conducted at the headquarters on Earth. The presently unreliable security systems was why Batman preferred Raven being brought by someone who had a hand in constructing the tower as opposed to portaling (it's a word, shut up) herself there, which I feel is worth mentioning still.


	9. Alfred

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's nice to have guests.

###### 

"We've had quite the week so far, sir."

Sunday evening, Master Bruce, or rather Batman, had returned to the cave with a dour look. "How was your meeting, sir?" Alfred had asked. Clothing lines, figurines, bath towels; travel mugs, pocket knives, duct tape, to name a few places he'd seen the Batman emblem as of late. "Perhaps Mr. Trevor wanted to discuss the matter of endorsing a breakfast cereal?"

The boy was always too serious. The man no different. Master Bruce pulled down his cowl and removed his gauntlets. "We have company on the way." And they landed one by one behind the Batmobile, Master Clark and Ms. Diana, and Mr. Victor Stone, to whom he had yet to properly introduce himself. None of the three empty-handed. 

"So it would seem. Are we building another safe?"

"A vault," Master Bruce said. "But I don't mean them. Dick and Damian are bringing Lantern and Raven to the manor. I don't know how long they'll be here, but I need you to get them settled."

"How many should I expect for dinner?" 

"Count me in," Master Clark said from above them, carrying a sheet of metal overhead, single-handed. Doubtless he was holding the Lantern ring in the other. "Talk about walking amongst the Gods, Alfred cooks like one."

Ms. Diana effortlessly held the pieces of their to-be vault in place while Mr. Stone set to welding them together. "I look forward to your ambrosial cooking, Alfred," she said heartily.

"I hope their children are a bit more tractable than yours," Alfred confessed to Master Bruce. "I fear for us all if they are not."

Master Clark's mouth twitched into an impish grin. "You know I can hear you?" 

"I'm all too aware, sir. If you'll excuse me."

The front door was opening as he reached it. "Master Dick," Alfred greeted warmly. He knew to spare the sentiment where others were concerned. "Master Damian."

Master Dick's smiles had never been less than endearing. "Hey, Alfred."

And Master Damian's had simply never been. "Hello, Pennyworth." 

Alfred bowed his head to their guests. "Welcome to our humble abode, sir." Hal Jordan. In a way, he knew him already. "Ms. Raven." Her as well, the young lady to whom they owed the world. 

Master Damian strolled in more as though the world owed him. "No need for your services today, Pennyworth." He led Ms. Raven to the stairs by the hand, and it must have been her duffel over his shoulder. Progress indeed. "I'll show you to your room. This way." 

Alfred observed the dark clouds blotting the sky before he closed the door. "He is so good to the help," he drawled. "I have missed him dearly." He said to their remaining guest, "Mr. Jordan, I presume." The last they'd seen of each other, Mr. Jordan had been the Green Lantern, and Master Bruce had been missing. These were better times. Most any times were better.

Mr. Jordan shook his hand with a gentleman's grip. "Finally meeting the legend in person."

"I expect my reputation precedes me. May I take your bags?"

"I've got 'em, but thanks." 

"Don't let the humility fool you," Master Dick said. "Alfred's a total badass. Come on, I'll draw you a map. You'll need it."

"Well then," said Alfred, left by his lonesome in the entryway. "My work here is done."

Dinner was bound to be an interesting affair. He'd never had such a mélange of costumed heroes and casual attire at his table. 

Ms. Diana made quite the presentation of pointing at him with her fork. A lovely woman. Certainly a spirited one. "Your skills were not exaggerated, Alfred." She turned to Master Bruce. "You are truly blessed to have him here."

"I know all too well." From the end of the table, Master Bruce lifted his wine. There was a vacant seat between him and their guests on both sides, and Alfred supposed there was some symbolism to be had there as he unwisely refilled Ms. Diana's wine. 

"Flattery will get you everywhere, Ms. Diana." 

"I could die, right now, and that'd just be okay," Mr. Jordan said, seated beside Master Dick. "What's this called?"

" _Coq au vin,_ " Alfred replied. "I haven't prepared it for some time. Certain incidents soured my taste for it." 

"It's something else," Mr. Stone admired. 

For the entirety his meal, Master Damian kept to himself and to Ms. Raven. He sat straight, dabbed his mouth with his napkin. It made Alfred's heart ache to recall Master Dick had once done the same, though it had been no young lady he'd meant to impress, rather a distant father figure, always with one chair between them.

He did try not to dwell on it. Bittersweet remembrance and display cases were usually enough to appease an old man's wistful nostalgia. Despite that, he found himself brooding while tending to the dishes. Mr. Jordan's presence was an unexpected respite, and he shook the water off his gloves so it wouldn't drip on the floor when he faced him. "Is something wrong, sir?"

"Nothing's blown up or cursed anyone yet." Mr. Jordan smiled, tense around the edges, not an uncommon sight during one's first time at the manor. "Figured you might need some help after feeding the trenchermen."

"A generous offer, but no need, Mr. Jordan." 

"Okay, real talk," Mr. Jordan said lightly. "I'm feeling all kinds of weird treating this place like a hotel." He raked a hand through his hair and left it to linger on his neck, surveying the room. "No dishwasher?"

"We have one, but it's terrible for the china," Alfred explained. Washing the plates and cutlery was an unsung art form.

"The — Right, yeah. Got anything worth less than I am?"

Alfred handed him a pan and Mr. Jordan rolled up his sleeves and scrubbed it diligently, the tags around his neck clicking together. "The Air Force," Alfred recalled, for conversation's sake. 

"Yeah, test pilot," Mr. Jordan said. "Great gig. I'll tell you, at this rate I'm gonna have to think up one hell of a reason for using more sick days."

"Fear not," Alfred said. "I have my ways where these matters are concerned." If he could hoodwink Ms. Bannister, the United States Air Force would be easy enough. 

"I believe it." Mr. Jordan smiled again, as it turned out he often did. Small wonder Master Dick had taken to him. 

Master Damian was predictably less smitten by his good will. The following afternoon, Alfred found him in the game room affixed to his bedroom, in the midst of a rousing hand of UNO with Mr. Jordan and Master Dick. 

"Read 'em and weep," Mr. Jordan said, as he set down a green 4, and Alfred set down the coffee and tea. "Green's my lucky color." 

Master Damian had that contentious look about him. Scarcely did he not. "Father says you call yourself the Green Lantern." 

"Damian," Master Dick said, low and suspicious. Alfred supposed he should have done his part to nip this in the bud, but to be frank, he wanted to see where the boy was going with it. 

Mr. Jordan sounded as though he felt the same way. "Yeah?" 

"You're a member of an organization," Master Damian said, setting his cards face down, pressing his finger tips together and against his mouth, more Master Bruce's clone than merely a son. "Doesn't that make you _a_ Green Lantern?"

Mr. Jordan's eyes were narrow. "What're you, the grammar police?" 

Master Dick gathered the cards to reassemble the deck. "Big talk coming from _a_ Robin." 

Master Damian's egress from the room practically had his nose in the air. Mr. Jordan sighed, staring at the door he'd left open. "Did I just get told off by a kid?" 

"He does that to everyone," Master Dick afforded. Alfred kept his concurrence to himself. He wished Master Dick would do the same with some of his less civil means of expressing his opinions. "He's can be a mouthy little —"

" _Master Dick._ " 

That evening, Alfred brought a fresh tray of food and drink to the Batcave. Mr. Jordan had his hand on the back of Batman's chair, pointing to the leftmost part of the screen. They'd been painstakingly creating a replica of the Ta'auk's ships the last hour. "No, that's a canon, the energy core is higher than that," Mr. Jordan said. "Let me —"

Batman swatted his hand away from the keys. "Don't touch anything." 

"Are we smacking like girls on the playground? Is that something we're doing now?" Mr. Jordan stepped back. "That's my line, pal. You're the one hoisting crap from my room."

"I'll bring an extra chair, sir," Alfred said. A comfortable one, but not so cozy a man should be forgoing a bed for it. Yet he found Mr. Jordan deeply asleep when next he checked in, some hour around 3 AM. "Another all-nighter?" he asked Master Bruce. 

"I'm almost done," Master Bruce said. His cowl and Mr. Jordan's jacket were both tossed over the back of their respective chairs. Lots of pacing and forehead rubbing had been had here. The cave was no stranger to it. 

"If I had a dollar for every time I heard that, sir, I would be wealthier than you," Alfred said. He reached to wake Mr. Jordan. At least one of them could sleep properly. 

"Leave him," Master Bruce said, accompanied by the steady click of keys. "I don't think we'll get him to shut up twice." 

Alfred drew back his hand and took a stroll around their vault, noting the arcane circle carved in each wall. "It's a bit of an eyesore, don't you think?" Not to mention crowding the room.

"It's temporary," Master Bruce said. "I'll have it moved to the Watchtower after it's finished. We might need it again later." 

"These symbols?" Alfred queried. 

"The circle the Ta'uakin use in the ritual, to keep the soul from... running off. If that combined with fireboard and 304 stainless steel don't keep this thing where it should be, I don't think anything will."

"It's always the children who suffer most," Alfred said somberly. "And on that note..." Master Bruce turned his head. "I believe your son is enduring a less lethal hardship. Another heart-to-heart may be in order? Although, Master Damian may have well surpassed you in his romantic wisdom. Ms. Raven doesn't seem at all inclined to try and murder him."

Master Bruce was not amused. "I'll talk to him tomorrow."

"After you've slept should be fine." 

"I'm almost —" 

"It will wait long enough to get some rest, Master Bruce," Alfred said. He reached out and shook Mr. Jordan's shoulders. 

Mr. Jordan's reflexes left much to be desired, but he got his wits about him swift as any Bat. "I'm up," he blurted groggily, rubbing his eyes. "Okay. The — the... Remind me what we're talking about?" 

Well, nearly as swift. 

Master Bruce was called into the office shy of six hours later, and his sons missed breakfast due to an unusually early request for backup from Batgirl. "I've got a lead on Black Mask's incoming weapon shipment, but we have to move now," she'd said. "No word from Batwing, but Batwoman is en route."

Nightwing returned unscathed and starved. He stood by the kitchen window watching yet another storm pass through, gormandizing a piece of toast. "I know, white bread and butter. My body is a temple and I'm ashamed."

"Cholesterol is no laughing matter," Alfred said. "Master Damian?"

Master Dick worked off his domino mask, trying not to sound amused. Trying. "Pouting up in his room," he said around the second piece of toast, held between his teeth. "He got laid out. I'm pretty sure he's fine, but you should check for a concussion to be on the safe side."

"An ambush?" Alfred presumed, fetching a plate from the cabinet. 

"Isn't there always?" Master Dick set his domino on the counter. "Our little Damian Wayne, distracted by girls." 

Alfred pulled the toast from his mouth and set it on the plate, unimpressed by the manners, or lack thereof. "I once knew a boy who was prone to such distractions," he said, hinting. 

"I am _not_ giving him The Talk," Master Dick grumbled. "That's his blood's job. Bruce isn't back yet?" 

"Not yet." 

"Hal and Raven?" 

"Master Bruce left explicit instructions to keep them above ground while he was away. I explicitly ignored them." 

"I'll check on them." Master Dick wore a grin that Alfred knew, if he wasn't mindful not to, he'd get far too used to seeing it again. 

Their rainy onslaught ceased well into the late afternoon. The vagaries of the weather had made a mess of the manor grounds, leaves and branches strewn on the lawn, muddy water splashed across many of the headstones in the Wayne family cemetery. He polished the filth away, paying due respect to each, but gifting personal touch to the final two: blue roses. He stood in silence for a moment, the hush so profound even Master Bruce couldn't sneak up on him without trying. "Alfred?"

"Welcome home, Master Bruce. Your father and I were catching up on your more recent endeavors." 

Master Bruce's shoulder grazed his. "What did he think?" he asked gently.

"He is proud as ever, sir."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Work was brain-frying this week and my eyes were crossing going over this one, so here it is, finally. Some helpful notes / reminders: 
> 
> [1] _Coq au vin_ is the dish Alfred serves to Samantha Vanaver and Bruce during one of their dates in _Batman vs. Robin_. Typically people start preparing it one if not two days in advance, so I hear, but Alfred mentions the ingredients being brought in that morning, so presumably he uses one of the faster means of cooking it. 
> 
> [2] Ms. Bannister heads the boardroom meetings at the company and is the primary person Alfred speaks to while posing as Bruce in _Bad Blood_. 
> 
> [3] This hasn't been touched upon anywhere in these movies that I'm aware of, but some _Batman_ comics mention Alfred has a thing for breeding roses and has created his own known as the "Pennyworth Blue." This is hereby canon for this fic as well, just because I find it charming, and I have pictured him leaving these at Mr. and Mrs. Wayne's graves. 
> 
> As some people have noticed already, I've managed to post the "additional scenes" add-on fic to this one. I'm going to try to keep that within at least a few chapters of this one. None of it is required reading to follow this story (which was pretty much the point of its existence, lawl), but I'mma write 'em anyway.


End file.
